Sometimes
by Emerald-Water
Summary: Sometimes... you have to hurt the people you love to keep them safe..." Dean's learning a lesson, and John is his teacher. A collection of little stories all having one in common: Sometimes... Dean&Sam at different ages - Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

A dumbwaiter never was more exciting. Seriously guys. I just got the idea from a movie I watched. Well... at least about the dumbwaiter... the rest is just... imagination ;)

Well, and I don't own Dean and Sam and John... and doing this just for you to enjoy.

So, tell me what you think!!

-Lee

* * *

**Sometimes**

„Ohhh wait if I get you!" he roared, chasing after his little brother.

The small boy squealed in glee dashing out of the living room and up the stairs in search for a hiding place.

"You so gonna regret this!" Dean followed in hot pursuit.

Stopping at the top of the stairs he closed his eyes for a moment and listened. A smile crept over his features. At the moment they had THE hell of a time in a house as big as a hotel and still… he sneaked into the room and listened to the small giggle coming from under the bed.

"If I find you…" he bent and grabbed for a foot, starting to pull Sammy out from under the bed. The giggle turned into a high pitched scream.

"Nooo! Help! Help!" Sammy screamed while laughing at the same time as Dean started to tickle him.

"I'm the tickle-monster! Muuuaahhhhahaa!" Dean dropped his voice.

"Nooo! Dean! Stop it! Heelp!" Sammy squealed in return.

Both boys were so engrossed in their wrestling that they at first didn't sense the change around them.  
Dean stopped dead, his brother still wriggling under him. He watched as Sam exhaled, his breath coming out in little white puffs.

"Shhh!" He told his brother, his voice deadly serious.

Sammy stopped, watching in his brother's face as he seemed to listen intensely.

Something heavy fell downstairs and Sam could feel his brother's breathing stop all together for a moment.  
Then, something in Dean changed and his gentle and patient brother was all different.

"Get up! Common, common!" Dean hissed, dragging his little brother to his feet and grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip.

Sam tried to pry his arm free. Dean was hurting him.

"Ouch!" he yelled, letting Dean stop again, his eyes turning a little darker.

"Shut up, Sam!" he didn't let go and kept on going, his strides even faster now.

They stopped before the dumbwaiter.

Sam almost shuddered with cold now. _What was going on?_

"Dean…" he whined, tears starting to prick in his eyes.

"I said be quiet." Dean didn't seem to care.

He opened the doors to the small elevator and picked Sam up.

Sam suddenly knew what was gonna happen and started to struggle in earnest now.

"No! No! I don't want to… it's dark in there! Stop it!"

"Sam shut up! There's no time! Get in there!" Fighting with his brother to get him in the dumbwaiter, Dean could hear footsteps from downstairs. He was stunned for a moment as Sam's foot connected with his jaw.

"Let me out, Dean! I don't want to be there! Please, please! Let me out."

"Sammy!" with force Dean grabbed his brother on his upper arms and shook him.

"Sam! Sam, do you listen?" he could feel the fine hair on the back of his neck rise.

"Do you trust me? Sammy!" He watched the small tear strained face nodding.

"Then do as I say. Nothing's gonna happen. You stay in there. And you be quiet. WHATEVER you hear…" Dean's voice was barely a whisper now. "Whatever you hear. Stay. And be quiet. I gonna get you. Promise, okay?"

He felt the tremors running up and down in his small brother's body. He pushed him back and watched into his brothers huge, frightened eyes.

"I'm your brother. I wont let anything happen to you."

With that he closed the doors to the elevator and darkness engulfed the small boy.

...

Sammy listened to his hitched breathing while he tried to stay calm and quiet, just as his brother had told him to.

He knew something bad was going on. Somehow he knew it. He wanted out of here. He could see shadows moving by his hiding-place, something scraping along the wall and the cold grew steadily. He bit down hard to not chatter with his teeth, and watched hoarfrost starting to blossom on the door.

He closed his eyes in fright as he saw the shadow stop in front of his hiding-place.

A shout followed by a shot and a loud hiss and something hitting the door to his hideout hard. Sammy flinched and pushed himself further into the corner of the small compartment.

He almost cried out as the dumbwaiter suddenly started to move. In panic now, he started to shout: "Dean! Dean! I wanna outta here! Help me! Dean, please let me out! Let me out!" He started to kick at the walls but stopped dead as a shot echoed down to him from high above.

He could hear noises now. Loud and angry shouting, followed soon by another shot.

As the dumbwaiter stopped everything went dead quiet.

Sammy sat unmoving in the small elevator now, he could feel his heart beating hard and fast, his breath coming in small little gasps and sweat running down his face.

Another shot fell and Sammy whimpered, his hands wandering up to his ears, pushing down hard to keep the noise out, his eyes shut tightly.

...

After Dean had shut the doors to the dumbwaiter he'd run for his shot-gun, feeling the cold grew steadily. He knew what was going on.

He saw her coming up the stairs, white dress, her skin silky and pale, an invisible breeze letting her hair and dress flutter. She stopped on top of the stairs, just as he had done a few minutes ago and turned to him.

Her face remained devoid of expression. Then her mouth opened and she smiled at him. A deadly smile, and suddenly he was sure she knew that he wasn't alone.

She stopped beside the doors of the dumbwaiter, a mockingly snarl marring her features as she turned towards it.

And that was all conviction Dean needed.

With a angry shout, he rose his gun and pulled the trigger, at the same moment as her mind's power send him flying forward. He connected hard with the wall beside the door hiding his brother and turned around just in time as she reappeared in front of him.

He stretched his arm to reach the button with his fingertips and pushed down, sending the small elevator downwards.

Her angry scream, mixed with his painfilled one as she again threw him against the wall.

Anew he levered the shotgun and pulled the trigger.

With a feral screech she dissipated, her power withdrew from him and Dean sank to his knees.

_The cell-phone!_

Searching his pockets he dialed, waiting for the call to connect. The lights started to flicker again.

"Yeah!"

"It's here!" he screamed into the phone, listening to the static that answered him… only bits and pieces could he hear of his dad's response.

He could feel the pressure around him fall as she returned, and he knew she was pissed now.

The lamps along the hallway exploded as she rematerialized at the other end of the floor, her blue eyes catching his gaze… entrancing him, killing every coherent thought within him.

The ice blossomed from inside his chest, spreading, freezing him while her gaze held him captive.

He felt her mind grabbing again for him forcing him towards her, her arms already spread wide to embrace him.

From far he could hear a high pitched scream and something in that sound made him shudder.

_Her embrace kills…Sammy…_

Only a few steps parted them now… as he fought to get the upper hand on his body.

The arm that still held onto the shotgun came up ever so slowly and right before her hands touched him he shot again… the blast propelling him backwards as she screamed in rage, dissipating. Dean fell to his knees, panting in and out…

O_ut! Out of the house! Sammy!_

He jumped to his feet, as he heard the door downstairs crash open and his Dad's loud voice. "Dean! Dean!"

He stumbled down the stairs, already feeling her gathering strength again.

"You get outta here!" he was stopped by a hard hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off with force, turning around to face his father. "Sammy…" he said, his eyes meeting his father's gaze, daring him... and John simply nodded.

"Hurry!"

He rushed down the stairs to the basement and skidded to a stop in front of the dumbwaiter.

_How much time had passed since his promise?_

Fumbling with the door he ripped it open, only to breathe heavily at the smell that assaulted his nostrils.

Sammy had soiled his pants. He was pressed in the furthest corner of the compartment, his eyes scrunched close, his small hands over his ears, sweat running down his little brother's face, plastering his hair to his head and forehead while he mumbled something incoherently.

Dean heard the screech upstairs. Without a second thought he grabbed his little brother under the armpits and pulled him out of the elevator.

The little boy wrapped his arms and legs around Dean's body in a reflex, clinging to him and almost making it impossible to breathe.

"Let me outta here, please…" Dean could hear the incoherent ramble of his distraught sibling.

"Gottcha Sammy, gottcha! We gonna get outta here now, okay?"

He soothed while he started up the stairs.

Sam continued to whisper and he answered his whispered pleas with soothing nonsense.

A shot followed by the screech of the creature came from upstairs and Sammy cried out in fright, letting Dean hurry to leave the house and seek sanctuary for both of them in the Impala.

...

He'd wrapped Sam's trembling form into a blanket, ignoring his brother's soiled clothes for now. They'd deal with that later.

As he sat there, his brother on his lap, he could finally feel Sammy relax against him, his breathing evening out at some point, indicating that Sam fell asleep. But that didn't stop him to run his hand soothingly up and down his brother's back.

Also he felt tired, he straightened, as he saw the figure of his father appear in the door.

John Winchester walked over to the car, his gaze set on his son's situated in the backseat.

Opening the door, he crouched down to be eye level with Dean.

He watched his son for a moment, trying to read his mind.

"You got it?" Dean asked silently.

John nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You okay sport?" he asked back, his hands going through his hair, messing it.

"I'm okay…" Dean shrugged, running his hand up and down Sammy's back again. He could feel him shift on his lap.

"How's Sammy?" his father investigated further.

"I… he… he was frightened, but otherwise…" Dean stopped, looking at his father feeling the lump build in the back of his throat.

"Dean…" his father's hand dropped on his shoulder, letting him wince slightly.

"I… I… had to hide him. Sammy's always hiding under the bed. That wasn't safe… he needed to be somewhere safe. I… I didn't want to scare him… but…"

"Dean…" the pressure on his shoulder grew.

"I forced him to hide in the dumbwaiter…" Dean's gaze fell and at the same time the hand on his shoulder withdrew.

Sammy mumbled something in his sleep, as he snuggled closer to his brother.

"Dean…" John forced his oldest chin up.

"… You know, son. You did great today." John watched as he saw a small sparkle grow in Dean's eyes.

"You did a great job in protecting your brother. I saw what happened upstairs, and Sammy was more safe where you put him then anywhere else."

"Then why do I feel so guilty…" He almost missed the words.

"Because… sometimes you have to hurt the people you love to keep them safe… let's go inside, shall we?"

Dean sat there, staring at his father, and then on the small form on his lap.

"I think Sammy would rather stay in a motel-room tonight, Dad…" he answered.

John contemplated the words for a moment.

"We just need two Queen's… Sammy can… stay with me." Dean rambled on, letting John smile slightly. He winked at him.

"I didn't say no, did I? Let's go okay?"

Dean settled back, closing his eyes as he heard the Impala's engine rumble to life.

Kissing the top of Sammy's hair he whispered:

"I'm sorry Sammy. I didn't want to frighten you. But I had to keep you safe…"

**FIN... maybe**


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys...

sometimes... there's a continuation where you thought there isn't one ;)

This is Sam-centric..., it's Sam's time to learn that he isn't only the little brother, but that he's able to change things... for the better.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!!!

* * *

**Sometimes 2**

Everyone had his duty tonight. John had started to the small graveyard that was adjoining on the property of the haunted house. He had Dean left to the task to keep the ghost distracted.

And Sam's duty was to stay in the car. Away. Again. To be safe…

That's how he ended up standing there, with wide eyes, as the fire slowly engulfed the house, licking its way up the walls.

He was torn. Torn between following orders and helping his family. SCREW orders, he decided!

With that he turned and opened the trunk. At that moment the second-floor window burst, followed by an agonized scream. As he whirled around he saw his brother landing in a heap on the grass of the savaged yard.

His eyes locked with the figure standing on the window of the second floor, illuminated from the fire. He saw it flicker at the same time his brother tried to move, and knew this wasn't over yet.

He grabbed for the shot-gun, rock-salt-cartridges and one pack of rock-salt, determination setting on his face.

He wouldn't let that bastard get to Dean.

...

Dean felt the glass slice through his clothes and flesh. He screamed, the cool wind outside taking his cry with it. The ground rushed up at him and he hit it hard, feeling all the air leaving his lungs, ending the scream.

He knew he had to get away from it. He knew it would come for him and he had lost his gun. As he tried to rise, agony ran through him and he fell back down, a small whimper escaping as he felt bones within him shift.

His consciousness faded fast now, but still he could feel the drop in temperature, announcing the spirit. If his dad hadn't dug up this sucker soon, he'd have to take care of another ghost. Almost laughing at the grotesque thought he stopped breathing as he felt the ghost's cool hand touching his face... a shot rang out, tiny pieces of rock-salt biting into his skin, so close it hit. The sound of the shot itself, however, seemed to come from far, far away. His eyes grew tired, his vision greying out... and then his Dad was there, towering over him, legs spread wide while the gun was in his hands, ready to shoot, never wavering. This was the last he saw before the darkness that had lured around him took him away.

...

Sam stood over Dean, legs spread to be more balanced, the gun in calm hands, although he felt scared like never before. He had shot it the moment it had touched his brother, hitting the son of a bitch straight and it had dissipated with a screech. At the same second it dissipated, Sam had ripped open the bag of salt, drawing a circle around them and now he waited. Waited for something to happen. For their Dad to finish his work at the cemetery.

A small groan from under him let him shift his attention and he turned to look at Dean, stopping with the motion as the first raindrop hit him. His breath caught as he stood there, rain starting to fall heavy from the dark, cloudy sky, only lit by the fire, which meanwhile engulfed the whole building.

And then the ghost was back, hissing at him, hateful eyes boring into his, as it stood on the other side of the slowly dissolving circle of salt.

He felt his sweat mix with the rain, running down his forehead, his heart beating a mile a second, as he cocked the gun, inhaling deeply to take a calm aim.

„I can do this... I can do this...", he whispered as his fingers touched the trigger.

The seconds spread to minutes while he stood there, eye to eye with the spirit, waiting for the last bit of rock-salt to be washed away, the circle to be broken. And then the ghost lurched forward and Sam pulled the trigger.

He could feel small parts of rock-salt cutting his face as the creature literally exploded into a ball of fire at the same second the salt hit it. And it was gone.

Sam panted heavily now, and let go of the gun. He dropped to his knees beside his fallen brother, tears of relieve running down his face as he slowly reached out to touch Dean's face.

He didn't care that the soggy ground soiled his pants as he sat down on his haunches, cradling his brother's head in his lap, seeking comfort in the contact, while the tears continued to fall.

...

He stopped dead at the sight of the burning building.

Seeing the two figures huddled together in front of the house John stopped thinking, breathing, his heart missing a couple of beats.

And then he ran...

„Sam! Dean!" he screamed the cold grip of fear almost immediately turning into hot anger as he grabbed Sam on the upper arms dragging him to his feet and shook him.

"Didn't I told you to stay in the car?!" he yelled, ignoring Sam's pale complexion, hair plastered on his head, the dirt and the cuts on his face, the slight tremble he could feel underneath his fingertips.

But he stopped shaking him the moment Sam raised his head, meeting his gaze.

Sam's face was tear stricken, but his eyes were blazing and his voice held so much heat as he spoke: "He was pushed! And you weren't here! There was only me to help!"

John gave him another hard shake and retorted: "You disobeyed my orders to STAY in the car! Anything could have happened!"

At this, something in Sam's eyes changed and he shouted, while shrugging his father's hands off his shoulder with a forceful pull: "Yeah! Anything could have happened! Dean could have DIED! I frigging don't CARE about your orders! Screw them!"

John stared at him for a moment, then he bent down without another word and slapped Dean's face.

"C'mon buddy. We gotta get moving. C'mon! That's it Dean. Open your eyes..."

... later ...

John pushed the door open with his foot, keeping a tight grip on Dean as he helped him to the nearest bed and settled him down. Dean turned to his side and was asleep immediately. For a moment, he studied him, then noticed that the door to the room was still open. Sam hadn't followed.

Sighing, he stroked Dean's hair from his forehead, and then turned to go and get his youngest.

Sam was still sitting in the car. The boy hadn't uttered a word since his outburst.

He knew he had been unfair. But seeing Sam out there... he opened the door of the car, crouching beside Sam.

He had expected to see Sam asleep but he hadn't expected this!

With a tired sigh, he grabbed for Sam, who for a moment tried to fight his hands off. But he knew Sam was spent. And only moments later his baby-boy gave up and let himself be carried out of the car, wrapping his legs and arms around John and holding on so tight John had problems to breathe.

He held on to the little boy feeling the shudders and sobs that wracked Sam's frame, one hand clutched Sam tightly to himself, while his other hand lingered on the back of Sam's head, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on Sam's neck.

" 't is okay Sammy. 't is okay. Dean's asleep." he spoke quietly, closing the door to their room.

"He has a pretty hard head, you know?" He could feel the sobbing turning into a soft chuckling and felt relieved.

"His wrist will heal, you'll see. And the cuts... the cuts only have been shallow. He's as good as new in a couple of days.

He sat Sam down on the closed toilet-lid, and knelt in front of him.

"Now, let's get you out of your wet clothes or you'll get sick, okay?" he gently started to strip Sam down.

As the boy sat there, only boxers left on him, John could see the bruise-marks left by him from earlier.

Wincing to himself he crouched in front of Sam again, eyes glued to the bruises.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

Out of the corner of his eyes John saw Sam's eyes coming to a rest on his face, while he still looked at the bruises caused by his hands.

"I... I just was scared shitless. You, were out of the car, Sam and god-knows-what could have happened..."

Sam's gaze still rested on his face, so John looked up, meeting his son's eyes for a second time that night.

"The house was on fire... and the spirit pushed him. You weren't there... I had to... I just had to..." Sam's voice whispered, tears again running down his cheeks.

John hugged him again.

"Shhhh. I'm sorry. You did so good. I'm sorry. I just was scared. I know that sometimes you just have to screw orders to save the ones you love."

He held onto Sam for a few more moments, then letting go, he grabbed one of the washcloths, wetting it and grabbed Sam by the chin.

"Okay, I just gonna clean the cuts and then you gonna take a hot shower and we'll put you into the warmest PJ's we have."

And he gently set to work...

...

He woke up in the early morning-hours with the feeling of someone watching him. Opening his eyes he could see the shadow in front of him.

"Daddy?" he couldn't hide the smile that crept on his face. "Can I sleep in your bed?"

John simply moved aside, holding up his covers so Sam could slip under them.

His son snuggled up to him and John protectively wrapped one arm around Sam's middle, his hand resting on Sam's chest, feeling the heartbeat there.

He wished he could give his sons a normal life. Sometimes... just sometimes...

**FIN**

_What do you think? Worth the read? _


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys,

I just had another flash for my "Sometimes"series... hope you do enjoy. I needed a little story to warm up my heart again ;)... so... hope you don't mind if it gets a little sappy. Let me know what you think!

* * *

**Sometimes 3**

The concrete bit his skin, as he flung himself forward, getting a grip around the woman's wrist. He kept his hold as she fell and he skittered forward, dangerously near to the abyss.

He could feel her delicate wrist crush under his vice-like grip and heard her pant in pain, but his hold on her arm even tightened.

His hip hurt where he had hit the ground, and he knew something was torn, as he felt the warm stickiness soaking in his denim.

"Hold on!" he panted breathless, his teeth gritted as he felt skittering another few inches toward the rim.

"Let go!" she whispered back to him, her eyes catching his for a few seconds, before his gaze darted to the depth beneath her and then his head bent a little to search for his brother.

_Where was Dean!_

He gasped as he felt her let go of his forearm and felt moving forward again peculiar, as she started to fight his grip.

"Let me go!" she screamed, and he had to move his left arm to grab hers with now both hands, giving up on the leverage it had provided, spreading his legs as far as he could to stop his forward movement.

To no avail! He could feel losing against her weight, being dragged forward inch for inch, felt the cold wind hit his face as his head went over the edge.

He drew in a deep breath and screamed at the top of his voice, still feeling the forward movement that couldn't be stopped by him… and then…

"Let me go!" she cried.

"If you wanna live let me go!"

He just couldn't let go of her. He had to save her…

"Let me go…" she pleaded, tears running down her face.

He felt himself move forward fast and knew it was too late to save her, or to be saved… he would fall with her. And in this agonizing moment he let go of her and felt himself skip forward over the rim.

Something hit his right leg hard, letting him pant in pain, strong hands grabbed his jacket and held onto him.

"Don't let me go!" he breathed exhausted, eyes scrunched close.

"Never!" the strained voice of his brother answered.

He fought his flailing arm upwards and held onto something soft and warm, hearing a pained gasp in return. He kept his hold, and felt a pull going through him and then the ground was back beneath him and he could feel fast breaths against his neck, something hitting his collar-bone as he still held onto whatever part he had of his brother.

"You ever do a stunt like that again…" he almost missed the whispered words of his older sibling as Dean spoke into his chest. "… I swear I gonna kick your skinny ass."

Sam started to laugh, laughter turning into chokes and chokes into sobs, as he finally realized how close it had been.

"Sammy?" The anger he had heard earlier had vanished from Dean's voice. It had never actually been anger, Sam knew. Instead his brother's voice held a worry in it, that he started to sob even more for a moment.

"Sam?" He felt Dean draw back, out of his still vice grip, and a hand on his chin brought his eyes to Dean's level.

"Sam?"

"I couldn't save her..." he whispered.

"Sammy?"

"I... I tried, but couldn't... she... she told me to let go." His hand went to his mouth as he swallowed another sob.

"Sam... sometimes..."

"What!" he winced at the angry exclamation.

"Sam. You..." Dean shook his head.

"Sam..." his brother sighed, then tried again. "She wasn't a victim, Sam. She was the spirit. And..." Dean took a deep breath.

"I... I screamed to you to let go. But... you didn't. I... I really thought she'd get you too."

Dean looked at the concrete-ground between them and as he raised his eyes again, Sam could have sworn he saw tears glistening in them.

"Sometimes, you HAVE to let go. Do you understand?" And at that the anger was back in his voice, as he grabbed Sam's coat collar and shook him – gently.

"Because sometimes you just can't save them anymore! Idiot!"

He did let go with the last insult and sniffed audible, his hands washing through his face and hair.

"Now. Let's toast her, okay?"

Dean raised to his feet and offered Sam his hand.

Sam came swaying to his feet and looked at his brother, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"Sometimes, you're a real jerk!" he said quietly and Dean laughed gently as they started to walk.

"Right back attcha, bitch!" was his reply.

"But other times, you're the best brother one could wish for..." Sam finished silently.

"What was that?" Dean glanced at him playfully and Sam chuckled, lifting his arm and put it around his brother's shoulder.

"Nothing big brother, nothing!"

**FIN**


End file.
